What an experience! The bar was literally bursting at the seams with people- all of whom were staring intently at the huge projector screen plastered on the wall. As we watched the 22 men of interest chasing after that funky world cup ball, chants of "ENG-LAND, ENG-LAND, ENG-LAND" filled the air. Throughout the game, there was no end to the victory shouts, cries of frustrations, songs of support and claps of satisfaction... Ah, the atmosphere. Magical.
Amazing save.
It's interesting to note how the English are so harsh on their own players too. "****! What the hell is he doing?!" or "He's the worst player in the world!" quickly greeted one missed goal after another. There was no mercy amongst the fans. Either you deliver, or you're crap.
Nevertheless, the game was so so so boring for the first 80 minutes or so. The players were so lethargic and there wasn't really anything exciting going on on the pitch (To me, exciting= any fouls, penalties, goals, fights). I yawned. And at that very moment, Peter Crouch delivered. He headed in the first beautiful goal that David Beckham set up for him.
The crowd in the bar went ecstatic. All my male friends who had been cursing and swearing at the poor performance earlier literally lept up in euphoria. They danced and hugged and shouted "England! England!" I couldn't help but jump about on the spot with excitement too.
8 minutes later,
Liverpool's wonderman Steven Gerrad performed his magic again.
England has won.
Although I don't really understand much about football, I love the World Cup. It's the way it unifies the nation that I find intriguing. And you know what, nobody's complaining about having men like that prancing about on the tv screen either:
I (still) heart David Beckham!
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